


A life, a heart, a home, hollow.

by Just_a_bunch_of_fandoms



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Because she really needs it, Everyone looks out for Jemma, Jemma Simmons Needs a Hug, Leo Fitz - mentioned - Freeform, Major character death., Multi, Temporary Character Death, but kind of hopeful, not exactly a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28697730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_a_bunch_of_fandoms/pseuds/Just_a_bunch_of_fandoms
Summary: Spoilers for AoS Season 5!Post season five, Jemma is left to deal with Fitz's death. It's a very good thing that she has people to look out for her as she realises that it might not be a permanent thing.
Relationships: Agents of SHIELD Team & Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, Melinda May & Jemma Simmons, Phil Coulson & Jemma Simmons
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	A life, a heart, a home, hollow.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: Jemma's one of my favorite characters, so I really wanted to see how she'd deal with...that devastating S5 finale.  
> If you have a phobia of sickness/throwing up, brief warning for mentions of vomit. If that sort of thing will be uncomfortable to read, then please keep an eye out, as Jemma does mention being sick beforehand, and start reading again when May and Daisy lead her to the bathrooms.  
> I will be writing about the five stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance), so be mindful if that sort of thing might upset you.  
> With all that said, enjoy!

Jemma smiles at the knowledge that Coulson’s heart is stabilising, it had been hard to come to grips with the fact that he was dying, but if she can help make him survive for just a bit longer, then she’ll count it as a win. 

“Jemma.”   
Jemma turns to see Mack standing at the door, a heavy look on his face and tear-streaks on his cheeks. 

“Mack! How was the mission…” The words die on her tongue as she catches sight of his grief-stricken face, “Mack?”

“I’m sorry.” Mack says to her, his voice gentle, “I’m so, so sorry.”   
“Why…? What’s wrong?” 

“Fitz…” Mack comes forward and takes her hand, his face ashen, “He didn’t…” Mack swallows, tries again, “He didn’t make it.”   
Jemma blinks, not registering the words, “I don’t…”   
“A building...a building collapsed on him, Simmons. And he...he…” Mack’s lip trembles, “He died.”    
For a second, Jemma doesn’t hear him.

Then the words come all at once and her legs give way. She collapses onto the floor, unable to see, unable to hear anything apart from Mack’s words;  _ Fitz died, Fitz died, Fitz died, Fitz died, Fitz died.  _

Out of the corner of her eyes, she can see Coulson trying to get out of the bed to help her, but she doesn’t need  _ help,  _ she needs  _ Fitz _ and he’s not here or...wait...maybe  _ she’s _ not here.

Maybe they both died at the bottom of the ocean, still screaming for help that never came because - because Nick Fury died and people don’t come back from the dead days after their death. It had taken Coulson weeks.

Or maybe she had died on Maveth, helpless against Hive.

Or perhaps she should go further back and maybe she’d died when she contracted the Chituri illness, when she threw herself off the BUS and everything that’s happened since then is fragments of her broken imagination as she watched over Fitz - perhaps he had indeed fallen in love with a woman named Ophellia and, in her jealous state, she’d imagined the woman to be some kind of she-devil. 

Maybe  _ she _ had been the one in a coma after the ocean and her mind had switched it to Fitz so she could play the hero like Peggy Carter or Natasha Romanoff…

Whatever the incident, she knew it was wrong because Fitz couldn’t be _ dead.  _

Because they were FitzSimmons, one being, one mind - constantly cheating death and time and space to be together and  _ he couldn’t be dead.  _

“Jemma?” Daisy’s voice breaks into her thoughts - where she’s come from, Jemma couldn’t care less.    
He couldn’t be dead.

He couldn’t be dead.

_ Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. _

“I think I’m going to be sick.” She gasps out and vomits. Daisy and May are beside her the entire time, May holding back her hair and rubbing her back, Daisy placing one hand holding hers, the other hand on her shoulder, rubbing quick, reassuring strokes. 

Both women are by her the entire time as she vomits, and when there’s nothing left to expel, she leans back, feeling numb. 

She doesn’t move, so May prompts her, “Jemma, why don’t you have a shower and change?” Numbly, Jemma looks down to see that her jumper is covered in bile and the small meal she had for lunch. 

She nods and allows May and Daisy to help her up and take her to the shared bathrooms. 

But then the bathrooms remind her of under the ocean in a small pod in the Atlantic.

_ (More than, more than that, more than that) _

And then she’s reminded that she’s alive.

That she’s alive and Fitz isn’t.

_ (Fitz is dead, Fitz is dead, Fitz is dead) _

She doesn’t know how to survive, doesn’t know how to  _ live. _

Because if someone was your everything; your life, your heart, your home.

If someone was all that, and they’re gone, then you no longer have a life to live, a place to call your own and the owner of your heart is dead.

Then you are hollow, a husk, a shadow of what you once were and you are  _ empty. _

May and Daisy lead her to her and Fitz’s room where they pointedly ignore the sympathetic glances, the whispers of the other agents as Jemma dizzily walks past them.

_ This isn’t real.  _

She tells herself.

_ He’s alive. _

_ This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real. _ _  
_ But they’re not in the Framework, so it must be real.

And if they’re not in the Framework, then Fitz  _ can’t _ wake up.

He can’t wake up because _ he isn’t here. _

He isn’t here, because he’s  _ dead. _

_ Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. _

By the time they make it to her bed, Jemma’s collapsed again. 

May and Daisy give her space in the evening - though Jemma doesn’t doubt members of the team are hovering outside, checking on her every now and then. A meal sits on the side-table near her bed, untouched and she stares numbly at a picture in her hands. 

“He’s not dead.” She tells Yo-Yo when the Inhuman brings her some more water.

“He’s alive, I know he is.” She tells Mack.

“He’s not dead. He’s not.” She tells May and Daisy, Piper and Davis. 

Piper exchanges a look with Davis, “I’m sure he isn’t, Simmons.” She says, kindly. 

Jemma shakes her head, not sure why they’re treating her like a child, “He’s not. I can feel him. I know he’s out there.” 

“Yeah?” Davis asks, his smile sad. “What makes you say that?”

“Because we’re FitzSimmons.” She responds with the obvious answer, “We cheat death, we don’t succumb to it. We don’t...we never leave each other’s side anymore.” She gives Piper a beseeching glance, “So he  _ can’t _ be dead.” 

Piper gives her a sympathetic smile and leaves the room, Davis at her side. 

“He’s not dead.” Jemma tells herself when she gets changed into pyjamas. “He’s still alive. He’s just…He’s just not here at the moment.” When she climbs into bed, she closes her eyes and feels for Fitz’s shirt that she placed neatly on the bed. It smells so much like him that she can pretend that the last twenty-four hours never happened at all. 

When Jemma wakes up, she reaches over to her right to feel for Fitz and to allow him to bring her into a hug, but only touches a cold empty space, “Fitz?” Before remembering the events of yesterday in a sudden rush.  _ Oh. That’s right. Coulson sent him on a mission. He’ll be back soon. _

She gets up and makes her way to the Common Area, hair scraped back in a messy ponytail, wearing a comfortable shirt and loose jeans, to get breakfast. As she does, she’s aware of glances and three of the scientists who work for her, come up to her, looking solemn. “Doctor Simmons,” One of them says, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Jemma frowns, “Why are you sorry?”

They exchange a look, slightly confused. “Doctor Fitz -” Another starts.

“Coulson sent him on a mission.” Jemma explains patiently. “He’ll be back soon.” 

“O-oh.” The second one says. “I see.”

Jemma nods, smiling. “He’ll be home soon.” She repeats again. He’ll come back to her, she knows he will. With a nod to the scientists, she makes her way to the common room where the team are brushing past each other, painfully quiet with red eyes and tear-streaked faces. 

“Jemma!” Daisy rushes over to her, “How -” She takes in Jemma’s cheerful expression, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Daisy gnaws on her lip, “Fitz-”   
Jemma gives a one-shouldered shrug, “Coulson sent him on a mission, he’ll be back soon.”   
Daisy swallows hard, “Of course.” She gives a watery smile. “Jemma.” She side-steps in Jemma’s path again and stares at her friend, “I just want you to know that we’re all here for you.”   
Jemma gives the Inhuman a puzzled look, “I appreciate it, Daisy, thanks.” 

Daisy reluctantly lets Jemma pass, where she’s met with more sympathetic glances. Jemma brushes a lock of hair behind her ear,  _ what was going on? Sure, Fitz going on an overnight mission sucked, but this whole nonsense that he was dead had to stop.  _

(“I’m never leaving your side again”)

So, he  _ couldn’t _ be dead. 

He couldn’t be, because then he’d be breaking his promise to her, and Fitz would never do that.

It’s when Mack enters the room that she feels the mood drop even more. 

“Jemma.” He makes his way over to her, where she’s spreading butter on some toast. “How are you doing?”   
“I’m fine.” Jemma says, then repeats, “Fitz is just on a mission.”   
Mack frowns, then his brows clears. “Jemma, do you not remember yesterday?” He asks gently. 

Jemma doesn’t answer. 

Mack puts a hand on her arm, “He -” Mack releases a long breath, “He died, Jemma.”   
Jemma stiffens. “Stop saying that.”   
“Jemma, you can take however long you need, but you can’t hold on forever. It’s not healthy.” Mack’s voice is kind, but somehow it manages to rile her up even more. 

“Stop it.” Jemma’s voice wobbles slightly, but she bites her lip hard as a warning to the tears that are threatening to spill over.

Mack tilts his head slightly in his ‘Sympathetic look’. “I’m just trying to help.”   
Jemma aggressively pushes his hand away,  _ “Help? Fitz _ needed help, Mack. Why don’t  _ you _ think about  _ that, _ hmm?”    
Without another word, she leaves the room, the rest of the team losing pained breaths. 

Jemma blinks away tears and it’s only when she’s closed the door to her room that she lets the tears fall. She slides against the door and buries her face in her arms. 

_ Fitz is dead, Fitz is dead, Fitz is dead, Fitz is dead, Fitz is dead. _

The words circulate her head, before being replaced with another mantra;  _ Not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair. _

It’s  _ not fair. _

He didn’t deserve to die. 

She’s sick of the universe giving her - giving  _ them _ \- things that they don’t deserve; Illnesses, Lorelei, Hydra, the Pod in the ocean, brain injuries, Maveth, Hive, LMDs, Aida, The Framework, Kasius, The Doctor, and  _ Death, death, death, death, death, death.  _

She’s sick of the pain. 

Sick of the guilt.

Sick of the death.

Sick of their shadows, sick of  _ giving, giving, giving  _ and never  _ getting.  _

Sick of waiting too long to love, only to find out that they loved too late. 

She’s sick of it. 

She gets up, finds the plate of food, abandoned on her side table, picks it up and, with a scream, throws the plate, watching it shatter onto the floor, the food scattering. She screams and screams, picking up broken shards of china and throwing it again and again at the wall, hitting the wall, pounding on it.

  
_ (“Do something!")  _

She screams for the children they were;  _ Jemma, Fitz, Skye. _

For the ones they’ve now become;  _ Victim, injured, Inhuman. _

She screams for Jemma Simmons - the seven year old girl, desperate to become a biologist, then the sixteen year old, eagerly joining SHIELD with nothing but brains and a little money to get her on her way. For the eager girl who looked up to Peggy Carter, the one who wanted to  _ become _ the Shield, humanity’s last line of defence when all else failed. 

_ (She screams for the girl she was; Agent, One half, Naive) _

She screams for Leopold Fitz - the young engineer whose father had abused him, the one who’d risen from it and had become one of the best engineers of his generation, the one who would gladly follow his best friend to the edge of the earth, who had refused to give up hope on Ward, even after the murder of Eric Koenig and Victoria Hand.

_ (She screams for the woman she’s become; Victim, Widow, Hopeless) _

She screams for Skye - The hacker who’d only ever wanted a place to belong, who’d been searching and searching for her parents, only to find out their true colours, to be betrayed once again, for the woman who’d only ever wanted to love and had been hurt time and time again, who’d been called a monster, and dangerous, and all the things she didn’t deserve. 

_ (She screams for the woman she will never be; Mother, Wife, Hopeful) _

She screams for May, a woman who so desperately wanted to be a mother, whose dreams and hopes were thrown away by one disastrous mission in Bahrain. 

She screams for Coulson, whose life was cut short by an Asgardian God, who was brought back and who was hurt again and again.

She screams for Elena Rodriguez, the young girl who’d grown up in the poor areas of Colombia, whose faith was so strong that, after everything, she still believed her powers to be a gift from God. 

She screams for Mack, who’d trained to be an engineer and had been forced into field work.

She screams for Bobbi and Hunter, an agent who’d dedicated her entire life to an agency that had crumbled like so many others, and a joking Brit, who’d been exposed to so much pain that the light in his eyes had been dimmed.

She screams for Robbie and Gabe Reyes.

She screams for Rosalind Price and Mr. Banks, for Trip, for Mack’s daughter, Hope, for Mace, for Burrows.

She screams for Will Daniels, who had deserved  _ so much better  _ than a wiped out planet where the sun never shone.    
She lets herself scream for Kara Palamas, for Bucky Barnes, for Natasha Romanoff, for the Maximoff Twins, for the victims of Hydra.

She even lets herself scream for Kenneth Turgeon, her lab partner, who hadn’t deserved his fate. 

Hell, she screams for Agnes, for Radcliffe, who’s mind had been manipulated by the Darkhold. For Lucy Bower, for the victims. 

She even screams for Ward, for Aida, for Raina, for Ruby Hale, all who’d been manipulated by those they ‘owed their life too’. 

She screams for Lincoln Campbell and Cal, both willing to sacrifice themselves for their partners, both losing themselves in the process. 

She screams for Robert Gonzales, for Agent Weaver, for Donnie Gill, for Mike and Ace Peterson, for Victoria Hand and Eric Koenig, Audry Nathon, for Izzy Hartely and Idaho, for Andrew Garner, for Vijay Nadeer, for James, who’d hated himself so much that he was prepared to wipe out all Inhumans. She screams for Ben, who’d been murdered by Sinara. For Abby, the Inhuman girl, for Tess and Flint, for Deke, children who’d grown up being taught that survival was their only option. Who’d been children, playing dress-up until the possibility of death seemed all too real. She screams for the Hinton family, a father who’d been pushed over the edge, a little girl who knew far too much and a mother trying to hold them all together. 

She screams for Talbot’s family and the general who’d lost everything. 

She screams for Enoch and then...she stops. 

There’s nothing and no one left to scream for. 

She’s empty, she's numb. 

She has nothing and no one to live for.

She’s sick of everything, sick of life. 

She’s been pushed for the last time. 

“Oh, Fitz.” She breathes out, voice hoarse from screaming, and fists cut and bloody, “What did we ever do to deserve this?” She sinks against the bed, in the food and the broken china, drained, leans her head against the side of the bed and closes her eyes, sick of it, sick of her life, sick of  _ living.  _

“How’s she doing?” Mack asks, looking worried, as he waits for the Simmons Update, this time given by May. Daisy looks up too, waiting for the response.

“Not good.” May answers shortly. “Stopped eating, barely drinking.”   
“She can’t -” Mack sighs, “You know I miss Turbo as much as anyone, but this isn’t healthy. She needs to eat and drink.” 

“Give her time.” May gives the same answer she’s given for the three days since Fitz’s death. “She needs time.”

“Shouldn’t we call his mother?” Mack presses, brows furrowed in worry. 

“Give her time.” May repeats. 

Daisy sighs at the table and rubs at her face. “I just - I can’t believe he’s gone.” She says. The words fill the heavy silence. 

“Neither can I.” Mack responds, eventually. Yo-Yo moves closer to him, like she’s done recently, fluttering around him like a bee on a flower. 

“You know, on the BUS,” Daisy starts, a sad smile on her lips, “Jemma, Fitz and I snuck out of the bunks to get some of the ice cream Victoria Hand had given Coulson.” Daisy swallows against the lump in her throat as she’s faced with the painful reminder that half the people in the story are - or will be - dead. “Fitz and Jemma were so fancy about the rules.” May, Yo-Yo and Mack listen to the story attentively, even though it’s just a reminder of how much they’ve changed. But still, Daisy tells her story and lets her other team members tell theirs; about Coulson and Fitz. 

It’s a miserable reminder of what they’ve lost; but Daisy doesn’t have another way to make the hollow feeling in her chest feel better. 

The days seem to melt together for Jemma and the only thing she has to keep her going is the repeated pattern;  _ Get up, eat, drink, talk to Daisy, eat, drink, go back to sleep. _

It doesn’t help, not really, but she finds it easier to pretend that it does.

She’s not sure how long it’s been or what day it is when Coulson appears in her room.   
She looks up, face tear-streaked and dark circles around her eyes, “You should be resting.” She says, voice slightly hoarse and lips cracked.

Coulson gives a one-shouldered shrug, “I wanted to see how you were.”   
“I’m fine.” She says instinctively, even though it’s obvious it’s a lie. 

“You don’t have to pretend,” With visible difficulty, Coulson sits down beside her on the bed where she’s sitting, knees drawn up to her chest and hair drawn back in a tight ponytail. “I…” She trails off, not sure what to say, other than feeling the need to fill the silence. “How long has it been?”   
“A week.” Coulson answers and she releases a shaky breath. 

“Oh. I don’t really - it’s -”   
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Coulson assures her, “But if you want to talk, I’m here.”   
Jemma thinks that there are few people who understand how she’s feeling - and that Coulson isn’t one of them, so she shrugs. “Thank you, Sir.” She forces out. 

They sit together in awkward silence, and Coulson tentatively places his hand on her shoulder, “I’m so sorry, Jemma.” He eventually says. 

Jemma hugs her knees tighter, “I miss him.” She whispers, voice cracking slightly. “He told me that after this - after we broke the loop - we’d go to Perthshire together. Get away from SHIELD. Have a family.”

Coulson’s mouth is parted slightly, “I’m sorry.” He repeats. 

“Time and Space couldn’t keep us apart.” Jemma says, tears welling in her eyes, “Death couldn’t, either. Not even on a planet called Death. Isn’t fate strange?” Her lip trembles. She forces herself to keep speaking. She needs to speak, she needs to let it out, needs to make someone understand how  _ cruel _ life has been to them, “All it took was a building.” Anger rushes through her, “Not the Atlantic ocean, not another planet, not alternate realities and psychotic robots. Not even a dystopian future ruled over by aliens. It was a building that did it. A  _ building.”  _

She’s shaking all over, “It was a building that -” She swallows, starts again, tries to even out her voice, “That killed him.” It’s barely a whisper. 

Coulson’s hand drifts down from her shoulder to her hand and squeezes. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” Her voice is quiet, but seems impossibly loud as she leans her head on Coulson’s shoulder. He pauses, seeming surprised about the intimacy of the situation, but then smoothes down her hair gently, “Go to sleep, Jemma.” 

When she wakes up, Coulson’s gone, but May’s there. Jemma looks up, feeling her cheeks redden slightly as she realises she’s been using May’s lap as a pillow and she hurriedly sits up. She opens her mouth, but May cuts her off with a small shake of her head, “Don’t apologise, Jemma. Please.” 

Jemma twists her fingers in her lap, “How’s Coulson?”

“He’s well.” May responds, “Said he was in here last night.” Her eyes narrow slightly, as if she can see right through Jemma. “Are  _ you _ doing okay?” 

Jemma sighs, it’s pointless lying to May, “Not really.” She admits quietly.

May says, “We’re all here for you, Jemma. If you need to talk.” Her gaze is like an ocean, multiple emotions flickering behind one expression.

But Jemma finds that she’s rather sick of the ocean. 

“Talking won’t help.” She snaps. “And it sure as hell won’t bring Fitz back.” 

May looks slightly startled, but she says nothing as Jemma continues angrily, “Talking won’t help, because talking won’t bring him back.” Her hands shake as she moves to her ring and rips it off, throwing it, where it bounces along the floor, “I’m sick of it,” She says, voice rising in anger, “I am  _ sick of it.  _ Ask me why.” 

May doesn’t, and Jemma can’t help the scream that comes out her throat, _ “Ask me why, _ May. It is because I have lost everything. I have walked through hell - scratch that, I  _ lived _ there for six bloody months, stared death in the face more times than I can count and all it takes is a - a _ building _ to ruin everything. A building.” Tears stream down her face, “We have both gone to hell and back to be with each other and all it takes is a building to ruin that. He froze himself for seventy-four years so he could see me and now he’s gone…” Her voice trails off as something hits her. “I need something to write on.”

“What?” May starts towards her, then stops halfway, as if she isn’t sure whether Jemma will hit her or hug her. 

Jemma flaps her hand impatiently in May’s direction, “I need you to get me something I can write on. Like a whiteboard.” Jemma turns a desperate look on May, “Please? I think I’ve just realised something.”

May returns a short while later with one of the large whiteboards that Jemma’s pretty certain is from the lab, but her brain is working too quickly to even care. 

Jemma ignores everything and focuses solely on this, the realisation that Fitz... he might be alive. 

Adrenaline rushes through her and she hardly dares to hope - hardly dares to hope that her best friend, her husband, her other half is alive.

She’s not sure what day it is, when Daisy comes to check on her, drink for her in hand, along with some food. Her face is slightly hesitant, and Jemma bites her lip, nervous all of a sudden. She and Daisy haven’t really had the chance to talk lately. Since everything has happened, there’s been distance between them and Jemma’s never really associated it with their friendship before.

“Daisy.” She says, eyes wide, frantically searching for somewhere Daisy can sit. The room is a mess, left-overs from previous meals that have gone uneaten, and shards of broken china on the ground.

“May said you’d found something?” Daisy juts her chin towards the whiteboard. Jemma’s scribbled equations and lines all over it, and Daisy raises an eyebrow, waiting. 

Jemma nods shyly, “I think so.” She twists her ring around her finger. 

She’s decided she’ll use it as her Hope.

As her symbol to keep going.

On Maveth, she was  _ on _ hell and was the symbol of Hope.

But a life without Fitz is very much hell itself.

So her symbol of hope will be the promise of their better future.

The future they will one day have together, she sees it in his ring that she keeps looped around her neck - a reminder of what’s lost, and what she’ll gain.

Because she  _ will _ have it, that cottage in Perthshire,

She thinks of Deke, of his mother.

Her -  _ their _ \- daughter. 

She  _ will _ get that future. 

Time and Space haven’t stopped them before and she won’t let it now.

Daisy perches on the edge of the bed, smiles, “Alright, Jemma. Show me what you’ve got.” 

Jemma smiles at Daisy, pulls out the whiteboard and begins. 

_  
  
_

Jemma Anne Simmons died on the same day Leopold James Fitz did, crushed under the weight of the realisation, just like her husband had been crushed under rubble.    
She spent over a year looking for him, as a husk, as a ghost, she rode phantom winds while looking for him, following whispered rumours about a man who didn’t seem to belong. 

But, no matter, Jemma Simmons had chased Fitz before as a ghost, with Daisy by her side and Piper and Davis at her back and far worse things chasing  _ her.  _

  
Leopold Fitz was her life, her heart, her home.

Without him, she is hollow.

So, she uses Davis’s skill, Piper’s spirit and Daisy’s support to keep her going. 

“Are you okay?” Daisy had once asked her, when she was Skye, and Jemma had returned from Hydra and their worst worry was Cal and Jiaying.

Jemma had replied, “I’m getting there.”   
  


She still is, still waiting to be full of the life and hope that she once was.

Still waiting for shadows to stop chasing her, still waiting to be well rested and still waiting to be  _ whole _ again. 

She’ll get there.

_ She just needs to find  home.  _

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed that! I was thinking about adding in the flashback scene from S6E6, but the writing just didn't flow that way. Comments and kudos are very welcome, I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Beta'd my by wonderful best friend, thank you for all your support, angel <3 and (just to be sure) Beta'd again by my mum, an angel in her own right <3 <3


End file.
